


The Master's Horse

by rubyofkukundu



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blackmail, Boarding School, Dubious Consent, Historical, M/M, Non Consensual, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-05
Updated: 2010-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-07 04:36:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyofkukundu/pseuds/rubyofkukundu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Public schoolboys + blackmail</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Master's Horse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in 59 minutes for the prompt: Exploit.
> 
> Originally posted here: <http://petitte-soeur.livejournal.com/102178.html>

Whatever Hooper was expecting that day, it was not for Thorpe to come waltzing into his study room like he owned the place.  
  
"What are you doing here?" gasped Hooper in a mild state of shock as Thorpe swept a pile of notebooks and pens off the desk and sat in their place, quite happily.  
  
"Doing your homework?" asked Thorpe, nonchalantly.  
  
"I _was_ ," said Hooper, crossing his arms. They might have been the same age, but Hooper was far shorter than the other boy, which was the only reason why he didn't attempt to throw Thorpe out on his ear, right then and there.  
  
"Shame," replied Thorpe, sounding for all the world like he didn't mean it. "Want to know what I know?"  
  
Hooper wrinkled his nose. "No. I don't care."  
  
Thorpe gave him a long look. "Are you sure? I think you might want to know."  
  
Unwilling to continue the conversation any further, Hooper stared pointedly out of the window, and hoped that Thorpe would get the hint and leave.  
  
Thorpe did nothing of the sort. "Because," said Thorpe, his voice lilting, "I know that it was you who made the Master's horse lame."  
  
Hooper couldn't help the gasp from escaping. He turned around with a glare. "It wasn't me."  
  
"Oh really?" Thorpe swung his legs. "Because I'm sure I saw you riding it, and I'm sure I saw you try to jump that wall and falling."  
  
Hooper bit his lip. "No you didn't."  
  
But Thorpe just leered at him. "You're a filthy liar, Hooper. Collins saw you too, so you can't deny it."  
  
Hooper scowled.  
  
Thorpe smirked.  
  
"Of course," said Thorpe, "you know that Collins will do anything I say, so your secret is safe with me."  
  
"You're a rotter," said Hooper.  
  
Thorpe laughed. "I'm sorry? Do you want me to tell the Master? Because that's what it sounds like."  
  
Hooper scuffed his feet on the floor. "Fine," he said. "What do you want? It's that five-pounds from my aunt, isn't it." But when he looked up, he saw that Thorpe was smirking.  
  
"I don't want your stinking money." Thorpe leaned forward, looking so smug that it almost made Hooper want to hit him for it, whether Thorpe was bigger than him or no.  
  
Hooper leaned back. "What, then?"  
  
Thorpe's smirk turned into a grin. "Kiss me."  
  
Hooper stood up hard enough that his chair clattered to the floor. "You maggot!"  
  
Thorpe pouted. "If you want me to tell the Master, then that's your choice."  
  
Hooper grit his teeth and snarled at him. " _Fine._ But I'm not doing this because I want to."  
  
Thorpe didn't say anything then, just shrugged and waited while Hooper stepped up and tentatively pressed their lips together.  
  
Hooper drew back as soon as he could, but Thorpe was watching him icily.  
  
"Pathetic," said Thorpe. "Kiss me properly. Of course, if you want to be thrown out of school..."  
  
Hooper huffed in frustration, caught Thorpe up by the hair on the back of his head, and forced their mouths back together. Thorpe whined and opened his mouth, pushing his tongue past Hooper's lips. He was lucky Hooper didn't try to bite it off.  
  
When Hooper drew back for the second time, they were both breathless.  
  
"Touch me," gasped Thorpe. "Do it."  
  
"No," spat Hooper, but it only took one look from Thorpe to remind him that he didn't really have a choice in the matter.  
  
"What's wrong?" said Thorpe, voice breathy, as Hooper reached into his lap to undo the buttons of his trousers. "You do this with Clarke, so I don't see why you have a problem."  
  
"Shut up," growled Hooper, tugging Thorpe's fly open. "That's because I fag for Clarke. It's different."  
  
Thorpe's arms found their way around Hooper's shoulders as Hooper reached into his underwear. Thorpe gasped, happily. "Different?" he said. "Do you touch him like this or not?"  
  
"Of course I do," grumbled Hooper, squeezing more tightly than he should, which made Thorpe's fingernails dig in to his shoulders, "but you fag for Willson. You know it's not the same."  
  
Thorpe chuckled, lips suddenly near Hooper's ear. "You only think it's different because you have feelings for him and not for me."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"It's true though, isn't it?" Thorpe panted for a few seconds. "You love him."  
  
"Shut up. You know nothing."  
  
But Thorpe just shuddered and twisted his head to press a kiss to Hooper's jaw. "You do love him. You filthy whore. Does he know?"  
  
Hooper retaliated by squeezing tighter.  
  
Thorpe gasped and bit back a moan. "You filthy whore," he said again. Then one of Thorpe's hands snaked down from Hooper's shoulders to run over the bulge at the front of Hooper's trousers. Hooper shivered, but before that hand could get any further, Thorpe ejaculated over Hooper's fingers.  
  
For a moment, they stayed as they were, panting. But if Hooper thought that Thorpe might reciprocate and touch him too, he was wrong.  
  
Thorpe quickly did up his own fly and jumped primly down from the desk. "Good," he said. "Keep up the work, and we'll make sure the master never finds out." Then he gave Hooper a wink and sauntered out of the door, leaving Hooper alone to deal with his own dissatisfaction.  
  
"Maggot!" shouted Hooper after him, "Filthy maggot!" but all he got in return was the sound of Thorpe's laughter echoing down the corridor.


	2. Behind the Vegetable Garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in 32 minutes for the prompt: School.
> 
> Originally posted here: <http://petitte-soeur.livejournal.com/102888.html>

So here they are. Hidden down behind the wall of the vegetable garden. Trousers around ankles. Thorpe straddling Hooper's lap. Both of them breathing hard.  
  
All because of a little blackmail.  
  
Or, at least, that's what Thorpe says.  
  
Hooper does his best to believe him.  
  
It's almost difficult to remember why they're doing this though. Especially when Thorpe is so _tight_ around Hooper; so _warm_ ; one hand bracing himself on Hooper's knee, the other hand stroking himself lazily.  
  
Hooper bites his lip to cut off a moan. Thorpe's face is flushed, and his neck is flushed too, right down to where it disappears into the collar of his white shirt. Maybe Hooper's own face is flushed; he certainly feels hot.  
  
Thorpe looks down at Hooper, panting, but then he shifts a little, hips angling, and in the next moment his head lolls back, eyelids fluttering.  
  
Hooper closes his eyes too. Thorpe is so tight and sweet and hot, and it's almost too much, the way he clenches down. But Hooper can guess what Thorpe is feeling; Hooper's done it enough times with Clarke to know. He wonders if Clarke normally feels just as desperate as he does now; wonders if Clarke would be familiar with the maddening feeling when all of a sudden, Thorpe just stops.  
  
"You're thinking about him, aren't you."  
  
Hooper's eyes snap open. "What...?"  
  
"That bloody Clarke," says Thorpe. "You're thinking about him. I can tell."  
  
And now Hooper's face is flushed for sure, but he holds his tongue.  
  
Thorpe groans and starts moving again, and it's almost too much for Hooper to... he lets out a moan against his will.  
  
"Stop thinking about him," demands Thorpe. He shifts to lean forward, hands in the grass on either side of Hooper's hips.  
  
"I..." starts Hooper, but his voice falters as Thorpe starts moving faster.  
  
"Look at me," says Thorpe, catching Hooper's gaze. "Stop thinking about him."  
  
Hooper gasps. Thorpe is clenching tight again and it's... Hooper's toes are curling.  
  
Thorpe pants hard, eyes glazed. "Stop thinking about him," he says, back bowing and head dropping forwards. "Think about me instead."  
  
Hooper can't help himself; he bites his lip and comes. It's only a few seconds until Thorpe follows him over the edge.  
  
When Thorpe looks back up, it's with a sated smile. "Think about me," he says, voice rough. Then he leans forward to give Hooper a kiss.  
  
Hooper lets him.


End file.
